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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25463512">The Field at Marlas</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/azanatha/pseuds/azanatha'>azanatha</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Couldn't choose between those two, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:40:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,483</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25463512</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/azanatha/pseuds/azanatha</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing he felt was pain, horrible pain, and then he saw the big brown eyes of his killer; but even this faded soon, and everything vanished. He would fall asleep like this every day, quickly, not knowing that he is falling asleep. He died like this, too.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Auguste &amp; Laurent (Captive Prince)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Field at Marlas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            A translation of

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/654169">Поле Марласа</a> by mossygreen.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hope you will enjoy the story about Auguste's death ;D<br/>(this is a translation of my own fic, so I may or may not have changed a few things)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He died on the field at Marlas, and the sunset, shining with an outwordly light, was showing him a path.</p>
<p>Path to where? He didn't know, because he didn't go. He didn't have the time to understand whether it was really a path or just an illusion. The last thing he felt was pain, horrible pain, and then he saw the big brown eyes of his killer; but even this faded soon, and everything vanished. He would fall asleep like this every day, quickly, not knowing that he is falling asleep. He died like this, too.</p>
<p>He didn't expect to wake up. And yet he opened his eyes, feeling sun's rays on his face, just like when he died. He rose easily, without pain, and realized then that the wound was gone. He was standing in the field at Marlas that was empty, untouched and calm. It looked weird without the hundreds of people, dead or alive, without the spears and swords, without dropped shields and wounded horses. This field was free from war, and he inhaled the warm summer air, and his chest ached from all the feelings that suddenly flooded him. Freedom, he thought. I'm free from everyone, just like this field is.</p>
<p>He didn't think that the freedom will come so soon. He never thought that the death will bring it - the freedom from war, from pain, from fear, from evil faces. And now he was alone here, in his quiet and peaceful field at Marlas.</p>
<p>There were no days in this world. Or he didn't count them, because even though the sun would set and rise, and the stars were shining brighter than they ever did in his life, he didn't care what day it was. What for? He had an eternity in front of him, a quiet, carefree eternity, and it would be stupid to spend it on the tasks of the living.</p>
<p>He would walk the field, and the grass, the long bright green grass, untouched by man, would tickle his feet, and the far away forest would sway under the wind. There was nothing more beautiful than this in the world, so Marlas became his world - ever-blooming world of eternal summer, and his memory of faces and events was slowly fading.</p>
<p>He was forgetting more and more, but he didn't care, because with memory loss came even greater freedom, and he was happily letting go of everything that linked him to the other, dark and restless world, until he has forgotten his own name. The only thing he remembered was the field of Marlas. It became his everything, his only refuge, his bright haven, and he almost merged with it.</p>
<p>And then he remembered him.</p>
<p>He didn't understand how that happened, how a forgotten memory suddenly found a way back to him, troubling him with it's unclear task.</p>
<p>Blue eyes appeared before him, brighter than cornflowers than grew all around the field, and brighter than the bottomless sky. After the eyes appeared a child's face and hair the color of gold; no, the color of sun that would outshine the sun above Marlas.</p>
<p>The sky and field went dark. Clouds covered the sky, and the first rain started. He rose his head and started remembering.</p>
<p>A smile on the familiar face was warmer than a summer, but sadder than a rain during autumn.</p>
<p>He knew that this person was important to him. He knew that there was no one he loved more.</p>
<p>What was his name? </p>
<p>The face wasn't disappearing. His thoughts were always about him, and the boy from a memory was looking at him with his blue eyes, and in them he could see the same question over and over again: how could you forget?</p>
<p>He didn't know, but he swore to the dear face: I'll remember, I'll remember everything.</p>
<p>He didn't want to live in oblivion anymore. He wanted to remember happiness, fun, sadness and pain, because with all the memories he lost the feelings, except for the euphoria that didn't have power over him anymore. He was empty, and only one face was pulling him somewhere, bothering and giving strength.</p>
<p>He understood now what he needed to know: his name, his family and motherland, and yet the memory was somewhere far away.</p>
<p>How did he manage to forget? And why, why did that boy appear before his inner sight, and looked, and looked, and looked...</p>
<p>He started counting days. He couldn't remember how many days he spent here from the beginning, couldn't even guess, so he started anew. And realized, surprised, that the days weren't longer or shorter than they should've been.</p>
<p>As he started doing that, he realized his own stupidity. Why did he like this empty, soulless field? Now that he was looking more carefully, and not swimming in an ocean of unclear feelings that were similar to the feeling of drunkenness, he could see that among the bright green grass there were no bugs, and in the skies there were no birds. The field at Marlas was dead, more dead than during the war, when killed soldiers were lying everywhere.</p>
<p>The war...</p>
<p>He remembered the war that quiet dead evening, and the rest of the night he spent recalling more and more visions: here he walks his field, and from his sword fall people. Here, with heavy heart, he closes his dead friend's eyes.</p>
<p>Here he hears the sound of the war horn and sees the face of his enemy.</p>
<p>"Fight me", says the enemy, and he accepts his challenge.</p>
<p>The war, he realized, was his end. The enemy killed him, piercing him with scorchingly cold blade. He remembered how he fell, and in his darkening world there was a flash, a cry: "Auguste!.."</p>
<p>The familiar face appeared before him once again, and this time it was real. Memories can't be so bright; they do not stand on the grass, and wind does not move their hair.</p>
<p>"I see you have remembered", said Laurent.</p>
<p>"Yes", answered Auguste.</p>
<p>Laurent looked at the sun and said:</p>
<p>"I give you time until sunset. You have to remember five stories until then. You have five hours. Tell me the stories of your life, and you will get what you are craving."</p>
<p>Auguste nodded, and Laurent disappeared.</p>
<p>He thought for a bit and realized that he remembers everything from beginning to the end, from birth till death. He didn't need those five hours, because the memory returned to him. Auguste carefully chose the most important parts of his life, and when he found them, simply lay down on the grass and fell asleep.</p>
<p>Auguste woke up from a weird noise that reigned all around him while he slept. He sat up and looked around, expecting to see Laurent, but was met by darkness only.</p>
<p>Wind was blowing from the forest; weak at first, it was getting stronger with every moment, and soon it became a hurricane, roaring and snatching the trees out of the ground.</p>
<p>Auguste got up, and even though everything was being destroyed, he wasn't afraid. He was inhaling the air and listening to the deafening thunder, feeling the first drops of rain on his face.</p>
<p>The field of Marlas was dying. His world was dying, and yet Auguste was waiting for something else.</p>
<p>Something else came fast. Storm, most horrible he has ever seen in his life, was swallowing Marlas, and Auguste realized that he was being swept away with the wind. Realized and not saw, because everything around him got so dark he couldn't even see the tips of his fingers. He was flying away, not trying to resist, and suddenly a boy appeared before him. He looked like a beacon during storm, this boy with golden eyes. He was shining like setting sun, and Auguste couldn't look away from the cold blue eyes. For a moment everything went still, and they were left alone in the darkness.</p>
<p>"You know what I came for", said the vision. Auguste nodded. "Then speak".</p>
<p>And Auguste spoke from the beginning, because the first memories were the lightest ones. They flashed and disappeared, leaving a scent of burning coals in the fireplace and the green color of mother's eyes behind them.</p>
<p>"My first story will be about mom, and it is short. I remember her singing an old Veretian lullaby: "The cat has fallen asleep, and you should sleep too"... Something like this, I can't remember the rest. I was so small, the bed in which I was laying was soft and mom's hair was the same golden color as mine. No, lighter, like yours. I loved looking at the hair, touching it, and it was softer than silk. When mom was healthy they were curly. After her death I would see this in my dreams".</p>
<p>Auguste stopped talking, and looked at Laurent, who was looking at him with warmer eyes now. Auguste continued.</p>
<p>"My second story will be about the first pony and first sword. It is longer than the first one, because I was older back then.</p>
<p>My first teacher of sword fighting was my father, and it was him who taught me the most important thing: to fight with honor. I remembered his lesson for the rest of my life, because it's essential for a warrior — no matter if you die or live after the battle, you must always be honorable.</p>
<p>Father was a patient yet persistent teacher. I remember the happiness from my first correct hit and the tiredness in my arms and legs.</p>
<p>My first pony... I loved him for his grace and joy. When I could ride him without falling off, I would laugh, proud of myself. I called him Fa, even though he had the longest name which meant that he was of good pedigree. I didn't care about it. I loved my pony for his speed and temper, not some pedigree."</p>
<p>When he finished, Laurent tilted his head to one side, looking at Auguste. He thought that he saw a little smile on Laurent's face.</p>
<p>"My third story will be about my first friend and first goodbye. He came to the palace with his father, a famous lord, and we immediately became friends. His name was Lucien, he was three years older than me and he knew everything in the world. Or maybe it was just that I wasn't too bright at the time. We would fight, sometimes for fun, and sometimes quite seriously. We would run and swim in lakes. When time came for him to go back home, I cried. He hugged me and promised that he will see me when I am king.</p>
<p>I was informed of his death on the border with Vask. Some promises are not meant to be kept."</p>
<p>This time Laurent frowned, but his eyes didn't get colder, so Auguste started again.</p>
<p>"The fourth story will be about you, my brother, and it's the most important to me because when you were born, you became a big part of my life.</p>
<p>You were small yet strong and funny when you were born. Sometimes it seemed as if I spent more time with you than mother did, and she would sometimes joke that you will start calling me mom instead of her. Well, as fun as it sounded back then, but your first word was my name. Or a part of it.</p>
<p>I remember your love towards animals, your happiness about getting your first pony, your will to be the first one in everything. You were smarter than me, I'll admit, and I could never truly fool you for too long. You realized that I was letting you win during our races, and it only took you a day to realize that sharks don't live in our lakes. I swear to you, when father told me this, I was scared for a month!</p>
<p>You loved sunsets, just like I did, and before you I would've never thought that I would be happy to share all my life with someone as small as you. But you were always there for me, and I believed that I would always be able to protect you.</p>
<p>We were inseparable until the war began. And the war will be my fifth story."</p>
<p>Auguste stopped for a while, and now that his eyes focused on Laurent, he saw tears on his face.</p>
<p>"I was ready for war and not ready for it at the same time. I was studying sword fighting, knew everything about strategies and was commanding people from a young age; yet you can never truly be ready for war.</p>
<p>I was the Crown Prince, the best swordsman of our country. I was giving our people hope. But I distanced myself from you, putting everything I had into strategies, plans and trainings. We rarely saw each other, and there was no time left for games, but you were a young boy, and whom else could you play with? Forgive me for this.</p>
<p>You were on the battlefield that day, even though I was against it. I remember your scream, in it I heard my name, and only because of it I now remember everything. We hugged the night before the fight, and you made me promise that I will come back. I saw belief in your eyes. You thought I will win, just like I won every fight before. You probably think now that I am a liar; that's what I though once about Luciene, crying over the news of his death. You can think anything you want about me, but you must know that I loved you until the end".</p>
<p>Auguste stopped to breathe and then finished:</p>
<p>"Those are all my stories".</p>
<p>Laurent was crying and smiling, and his hands were trembling when he put them on Auguste's shoulders.</p>
<p>"You're free, Auguste. One day, when I die and become dust, we will see each other again", he said and vanished with a flash of golden fire. The world, during Auguste's story so calm, was swallowed by the storm again.</p>
<p>And then Auguste saw a hole that looked like a window. It appeared before him suddenly, spilling light and sounds of the world of the living into the dark abyss of Auguste's world. There were birds singing and crickets chirping, and the summer wind was blowing above the real field at Marlas.</p>
<p>Auguste inhaled the fresh air and felt his heart painfully beating in his chest. It was a good feeling. He finally saw something that he knew, that he loved, that he forgot and remembered. He returned to his motherland because it was right, and the price were his stories, his happiness and pain that he went through once more.</p>
<p>He knew what awaited him - not a new life or a new chance, but something he desired so much more. An end.</p>
<p>Without looking back, he went to the window and stepped outside.</p>
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